The Waning of the Evenstar
by Zurizip
Summary: After the Death of Elessar, Arwen contemplates what her life Won't be without the love of her King.
1. The Shadow Falls

No part of LOTR is mine.  

This is simply a narrative of Arwen's life after the death of Elessar.  It comes from listening to 'Evenstar' on the ttt soundtrack, and thinking of the scenes of Arwen lamenting Aragorn.

There are a few obscure references, but I've checked them all, and will explain them at the end.

~^~

She looked at the one that she had given her life for.  He was cold, white as new fallen snow, and peaceful.  She stared at his face as the people walked by, mourning their dead king.  There he was, resplendent in his greatest coat, with Anduril, his sword, laid across her chest.  She did not cry, she had already cried too much.  It was impossible to cry more.  For one hundred and twenty five years, they had been wed.  So long, and yet, far too short a time.  She had known this would come, had known of her coming heartache.  But none-the-less, she had always denied it, always told herself, just one more day, and I'll be happy.  Just one more day.  How could she just wish for one more day?  The day would wax and wane and she would be left, standing alone, her tears soaking the ground around her.  Wishing, again, hopelessly, for one more day.  Left again with empty hands and an aching heart.  A day, what was a day?  Before she had fallen in love with him, it had been nothing but raindrops in a thunderstorm, not to be counted, and only to be appreciated as a whole.  The years, the decades, the centuries.  These were the things that used to have meaning.  Now, they had none, except to count the minutes, the hours, the days, the years, the decades, the centuries, that she wandered lost without him.  

            "I would rather spend one lifetime with you, then spend all the ages of men without."

            Had she said that once?  Yes, she had.  When she had given him her heart, to have, to hold, to keep and nurture.  How could he have left, so soon?  Now she would wander, lost, not looking at her next step, not looking where she was going, not even caring if her heart should break, for perhaps that would free her from her pain.  Perhaps.  But how did she not know that the pain would continue, as it did now?  

            The people had gone, and as she looked around, she saw that it was night.  Bleak, dark, cold, and cloudy.  There was no one, no one that could ease the pain, no one that could even dull it.  It was a sword, like his own.  Sharp and keen it was, and dug into her breast with ever sharpening pain.  But, also, it was the ring on her finger, weighing her hand down in its place, beside his, as it was meant to be.  But it would never be again, not properly, with his hand clasped in hers.  No, never again.  

            She had seen death, had comprehended it, known it, even wept for those who died.  Peregrin the Thain*, and Merriodoc.  She had seen their deaths, had seen Estel weep for them.  She had wept with him for his pain, and had felt pain also, for she had known them.  But then, then he had always been there to comfort her, to share her tears.  Now, he was not.  He could not hold her, and she could not hold him, he had passed away, like her heart, which she could already feel longing to take him in her arms again and hold him and beg him to wake up, though she knew it was childish, and could never have any avail.  Nay, there was no one to comfort her but herself.

"Lady Undomiel?"

She turned, her black veil whipping in the night wind.  There stood Elanor, daughter of Samwise, her maiden in waiting**.  She had come to try to ease the pain of his passing.  He had asked her to come, not a few weeks ago, and for his sake, she had come.  Leaving her family to travel to Gondor once again, where she had stayed for a time, as Arwen's maiden.  She loved Elanor, nearly as a sister, for they had shared many secrets when she had come.  Elanor had told her all about the love that she had left in the shire, and then had sent a letter back that he had waited for her, and they were to be wed.  Now the hobbit stood, a length away, looking worriedly at the queen mother of Gondor.  

"Mistress Undomiel, please, come in, you'll catch your death out here!"

Arwen looked away, she loved Elanor, but even she could not help her.

"I have already caught it _Romenloth__.*__**"_

Elanor blushed at her Elvin name, which Arwen had given her in the year that she was there with her father.

"I know my lady.  But please.  They are worried, your son."

Arwen looked again to her love.  He still lay there, face frozen.  She now saw that there were others around Elanor, waiting to bury him.  She could not deny her people the wish to see him safely underground, into his tomb.  But she wished for him to be in open air, lest he wake up again.  She rose, painfully, slowly.

            Elanor ran to catch her arm.  Arwen looked carefully at her love's face one last time.  The men gathered round, and his face was shrouded from her.  A pain shot through her.  Clutching her hand to her chest, she stared into the deepening dark, hoping for one last look before they laid him down beside his greatest knight, the Thain.  But no, it did not come, she was not allowed her last glance.  He was gone, and she suddenly felt the urge to run to his tomb and throw over the tile that was above him to look at him once more.  Somehow, it had felt like, if she watched him long enough, he would come back to her, hold her one last time.  

            The stone clicked shut; the stone workers had done well, the top fit in perfectly.  It was perfect, all of it, except…except…he was no longer there for her.

No. No…

Again the tears flowed as Arwen turned, letting Elanor lead her too her rooms.  All through the halls, her people watched her as her tears, hid by her black veil, flowed freely, dropping onto her dress and flowing like a gentle stream to the floor as she walked.

"The light of the Evenstar does not wax and wane."

Ah but it did, she now knew, for even as she lived now, she could feel it's slow decline, and knew in her heart, that someday, it would fade.  Fade into the earth, like rain is drunken in by parched soil.  She could hear her people whisper, could hear her _Romenloth thinking._

The light of the Evenstar has begun to wane from this world.

And indeed, she knew, it had.

~^~

*-In the year 1434, Peregrin becomes the Thain, he is made one of the counselors of the north Kingdom, along with the Mayor and The Master. (Samwise and Merriodoc) 

**-  Elessar came to the Buckland Bridge and gave the Star of the Dunedain to Samwise, and Elanor the fair, Samwise's first born daughter, is made Arwen's maid of Honour.

***- Romenloth, Elvish, Sunrise Flower.


	2. First night's star

This is the second chapter, in a short story.  It'll only be about one or two more chapters, I'm sorry to say.  I may do a prequel though…not sure if I'll have the time.

This entire book is, as said, best listened to the music that sprung the idea, Evenstar, on the two towers soundtrack is best.

~^~

Again she stood same place, and what seemed like the same time.  The only thing that reminded her that it was not was that Elessar was now cast in stone, no longer white, with a red coat and a shining silver sword, but gray, all of him.  It was so much like him, and yet, so far away.  He did not have the half smile on his lips that he had had when he died.

"Arwen…my love."

Arwen whipped around, but it was nothing, the voices on the winds, calling to her.  The voice called, stronger, harder.  It sounded like…

"Estel…" she whispered.  

The voices did not answer.  

Again despair took her, fresh as it had been the day he had died.  He was still there, sword crossing his chest, but he was not white, his coat was not red, Anduril was the only thing that was the same.  It was still dead, grey, like the rest of the stone that made his statue.  She could not bring herself to touch the statue, it was too painful.  There he lay, tribute to the greatest of the kings of Gondor.  She cared not for his title.  It was nothing.  All that mattered was his love, his love, which was now gone.

            The wind whipped her veil around.  It was now grey, since the passing of the King had been ten years already.

            Already?  Every minute since he had gone, she was there, every moment, counting the seconds idly away.  She would still be wearing black, but her daughters had told her to switch, so that her people would not be worried.  Humans did not weep so long for their dead, a year, two; five, sometimes more, but not much, and they were healed, and could lead life in a normal manner.  But for elves, who never die unless killed, death is entirely different.  It is endless, like their lives, and they weep nearly as long.  She now knew this, this feeling.  Many had died during her reign as queen of Gondor, never in war, but in age, or of sickness.  Still, she had never known it to be so unforgiving, so relentless, like her heart was being stepped upon by a booted shoe.  

            Clouds gathered in the distance, dusk was falling.  Again the wind whipped, tugging relentlessly on her dove veil.  Her circlet kept it firmly on though; no one had truly seen her face since the day he had gone.  No one would see it until she followed him.  She looked to the dusk, tears flowing again.  The first star was showing its self, just above the bell tower.  It was steady and bright, shining in the dusk.  

The Evenstar, first star of night, last of the morning.  Same throughout the night.  Still, when the day came, it would fade, and disappear.  But was this not like night?  This emptiness, this void?  It was not morning for her, morning had already passed, and was only a bitter memory, fading every day, fading into dusk.

            A step behind her, she turned, thinking it her mind and the wind again.  Her daughter, Celedae*, rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Mother, you should not be out here."

Arwen sighed.

"Celedae.  I can no longer remain here."

Her daughter paused.  She was one quarter elven, and could tell that her mother had not meant that she would go inside.  

"But mother, where will you go?"

Arwen looked again at the first star, now joined by others.

"The memories are too great.  I feel them weighing on me like iron."  She paused, decision made.  "I will go to Lothlorien, and dwell with my elders."

Celedae sighed.

"Mother, I would have you stay here, but I know that you will go as you please."

Arwen nodded.

"Thank you _dinanna*.  I will leave in a week."  She turned to regard her youngest daughter, tears still falling freely.  "I will dwell with Galadriel of the Gladhrim.  Do not fear, they will keep me well."_

Celedae nodded silently, fighting tears.  She was the youngest of five, her brother was king of Gondor now, and all of her sisters had gone to other lands.  She was the only one left for her mother, and knew that she had to let Arwen go, lest she fade faster.  Her father had taught her of elves, of her family, but she had never seen them.  Perhaps she would visit Lothlorien once, to see her great grandmother before she crossed to the undying lands.  She was not sure though.

"Mother, will you go alone?"

Arwen nodded, still lost in thought, staring at the first night star.

"I will go and dwell with my people.  You must remain here.  Eldarion has no child as of yet.  Until his wife bears one, you are the heir, should he pass away."

"Mother.  They have not been married a year!"

Arwen turned.

"I know Celedae, but here you must remain until they have a child.  It will not be long, I believe."

As she set out to her rooms, Celedae called out one more time to her.

"Mother!  Will you return?"

Arwen smiled sadly, knowing the answer too well.

"No my child.  The dawn comes.  The Evenstar has begun to fade, and soon will no longer be seen."

She then walked amidst the dry leaves, proudly, but slowly.

Celedae watched her mother walk away, wiping a tear away.

"Namarie, Undomiel."

~^~

*-Celedae: Silver shadow.  Silver is really Celeb, but to make the name flow, I took out the b.  There was an awful lot of that, so I figured it wasn't to terrible a thing to do

*-Dinanna- Silent gift.  The youngest of large families are sometimes the ones to talk the latest, Celedae was the youngest, so I stuck it in there.

            I had to make up Arwen's daughter, because there isn't much info on Their family, except for their son, thankyou to the nice reviewer who sent me his name!  

Do review, please?


	3. Passing

This is the last chapter.  Thank you to all of you that reviewed, I love you all!

Some of it's a little out there, but again, I think it'll pass…

Check up later, I may begin an Aragorn/Arwen Romance sometime, If I ever finish with The adventures of Kat and Sirrah in Middle Earth, if your just desprate, go read that.

And here it is, the last chapter of 'The Waning of the Evenstar.'

~^~

She stood on the top of the green hill.  Where the flowers grew that lamented Luthien, her own ancestor.

"I have made Luthien's choice."

She had said it, long ago, with conviction, knowing that death would come.  But she had always thought that death would come in sickness, or in age.  She had never thought of this sickness of the heart, where it slowly ebbed away, like the last vestiges of a stream, trying to make its way to the ocean.  The ocean.  She could never go now, she had turned from that path the moment that she had seen him in Lothlorien, on this very hill, covered in the same green.

But no, it was not the same green.  How could it be?  The elves' grace had passed from this world, Galadriel, Lady of light, her grandmother, was gone.  How could she have forgotten?  She had left with Elrond, at the end of the third age and beginning of the fourth.  All of her people had slowly left, no longer wishing for the cares of this world, the hardships, the heartache.

            Heartache.  That was what she was feeling.  But how could two words, strung together describe the enormous gaping hole that was left in her heart?  Nay, that was not it.  It was something much better.  Even the Ents, the tree keepers would not have a word that was long enough to describe it to her.  Only she could understand, she and her ancestor, Luthien.

            _Arwen Vanimelda!  Namarie!_

It had been on this very hill, under starlight and moonlight only, that he had said farewell to her and left Lothlorien.  She had watched him go, knowing her fate to him was sealed, and that her heart would never rest easily unless it was beside his own.  But even that had been ripped away from her.  

            As she slowly began to climb the green hill, the stars in the night sky began to fade.  One by one, they twinkled out, calling farewell to the fair maiden that climbed the hill.  She finally stood on the top, watching the dawn come from the east.  She had known her fate.  But to see it before her now, to see it all so clearly, as the child who has been caught suddenly sees what their fault was.  But she was no child.  She had known the price.  Now she was paying it.  There were no elves left, no one to sooth her pain.  There was no tender voice in the darkness.  The dawn was coming, and with its advance, she felt her heart unwind.

            All of it…he was gone, he would never come back.

No…no.

She fell to her knees, tears falling to the ground.  It was not the same sob that she had uttered at his last breath, nor the same as ten years later, or even twenty.  This was them all, wrapped up in her heart and coiled until they were released from their prison and came crashing forward.  She drew shuddering breath upon breath, and cried until she was exhausted.  Then, in the darkest hour before dawn, Arwen Undomiel, evenstar of her people, lay down on the fair grass of Cirith Amon.  Staring up into the heavens, she saw the last star of the night glitter in the fast approaching morning.  The Evenstar, her namesake.  Undomiel…undomiel…

_Ah Elberenth! Gilthoniel!_

The star twinkled, and Arwen's heart slowed, her torture coming to rest.

_Elberenth…Gilthoniel…_

The last star of evening disappeared, and with it Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of all of the elves of middle earth.  Daughter of Elrond, half-Elvin.  

Descendant of Luthien, only elf to bind herself to a mortal.

And forever _Elanor, _the flower of Luthien grew on her grave, for all of the ages of men.

~^~

_Elberenth! Gilthoniel! _Refers to a translation I saw of the poem once, meaning Elberenth, star weaver.  I thought it fitting.

I hope you have all heard the story of Luthien?  I may have spelled it wrong, deepest apologies if I did, I was doing this chapter from memory of the book.  Sorry bout that, I was being lazy.

Elrond is Half Elvin, its his most characteristic trait, also why Arwen is related to Luthien.

I'm not sure if it was Elanor that was Luthien's flower, but I think it was.  No it's no coincidence that that's what Sam's daughter's name is, he named her after those flowers at Frodo's advice.

Alright, that's enough, I'll leave you to your sobbing.

*sniff*


End file.
